Visions of Angels
by WolfKyr
Summary: So sick and ready to die. But is it my time to go Home?


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DISCLAIMER:  
Sadly Monica and Andrew do not belong to me, they belong to all those people that have copyrights on them. Like, Martha Williamson and CBS and them. Amanda, however, does belong to me (actually I should hope so, she IS me), so don't steal her! I mean, me. This story is based on actually events, I *was* this sick, but I never actually saw angels. Thank you Ali and Calaine for beta-reading my "mastapiece"! Please review and tell me if ya like it!  
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Visions of Angels  
  
  
Three days.   
  
  
Three days of sheer torture. Three days of   
hallucinations, of passing in and out of consciousness,   
of hacking my lungs out.   
  
  
Three days too many.  
  
  
Yep, it was time to die.   
  
  
Actually, I was supposed to die, oh, about two   
days ago, by my own reckoning, anyway. In my more lucid   
moments, I asked God to either make me better or take me   
Home, and frankly, I didn't care which. So far, no   
answer. But I was going to keep trying.   
  
  
"Please Heavenly Father, please figure out what   
You want to do with me. If I've gotta die, could You   
just take me now?" I pleaded, too exhausted to spill my   
unshed tears.   
  
  
Opening my eyes, I almost had a heart attack.   
There was someone standing in my doorway!   
  
  
"What are *you* doing here?!" I asked, wincing a   
little at my rude tone.  
  
  
The young woman smiled. In a lilting Irish   
accent she replied, "My name is Monica. I was sent here   
by your Father."  
  
  
This confused me. "My dad? He's at work . . .   
why would he--"  
  
  
She cut me off. "Not that father, your real   
Father. I am an angel sent by God and I have a message   
for you."  
  
"Ummm, hold that thought," I interrupted. "Oh   
MOMMM! I think I'm seeing things again!". I eyed the   
"angel" warily. She was inching slowly toward my bed.   
As I attempted to yell for my mother again, I coughed   
and promptly lost my voice.  
  
  
"Your mother isn't here, Amanda," Monica-angel   
informed me.   
  
  
I sighed. "She's never here when I   
hallucinate."  
  
  
Monica-angel smiled. "You aren't   
hallucinating," she said.  
  
  
"Are you sure?" I asked. "How disappointing.   
I've been trying so hard." Hey, if this was a   
hallucination, I had a right to be a bit sarcastic.  
  
  
"I'm sure," she replied. "I really am an angel.   
And God wants me to tell you . . . What's wrong?"  
  
  
She had started *glowing*. That's what was   
wrong. None of my hallucinations had ever started to   
glow before.   
  
  
"A . . .real . . .angel . . ." I stammered.  
****************************************************************************  
  
  
I must have passed out, because when I opened my   
eyes, Monica-angel was talking to some guy in the corner   
of my room.   
  
  
"Your . . . boyfriend?" I managed. "Angels are   
allowed to have boyfriends?"  
  
  
Monica-angel smiled at me. "No, he's not my   
boyfriend. His name is Andrew. He's an Angel of   
Death."  
  
  
"Ohmigosh! An angel of death!? Am I going to   
die? What are you doing here?" So many questions, so   
little time, that's my motto.  
  
  
Andrew-angel and Monica-angel exchanged "the   
Look."  
  
  
Monica sat down on my bed next to me. She   
smiled, and yep, she started glowing again. "I have a   
message for you," she told me. "Your Father in Heaven   
wants you to know how much he loves you and how proud he   
is of you. He is so proud of you for attending church   
and seminary. And He wants you to know He will always   
be there for you, no matter what. All you have to do is   
ask Him, and He will help you."  
  
  
Andrew took advantage of my stunned silence to   
answer the questions I had peppered them with earlier.   
  
  
"Amanda, it's not your time to go Home just   
yet," he told me. "You have many things to do before   
you can go Home. But you need to know, you don't need   
to fear death. When your time comes, it will come, and   
everything will be okay."  
  
  
I couldn't help it. I started crying. Bawling,   
even. "But why me?" I asked.   
  
  
Andrew answered softly, smiling, "Because He   
wants you to remember to have hope, hope and faith.   
Don't give up. 'Fight the good fight of faith'.   
Adversity will make you stronger, Amanda. Just remember   
that."  
  
  
I nodded, tears still leaking from my tired   
eyes.   
  
  
"We have to go now," Monica told me. "But don't   
forget what we told you." She gave me a hug.   
  
  
"Get well soon," added Andrew.   
  
  
Through my rapidly closing eyes, I saw Monica   
walk over to Andrew--and as they slowly faded out of   
view, my eyelids slid shut and I slept.   
  
  
I never told anyone else what happened that day,   
I attributed the heavenly visit to high fevers and   
heavy drugs. But believe it or not, that very next day   
my fever started coming down, and I was able to eat   
without feeling sicker. It makes me wonder . . . maybe   
it actually happened. I do remember the angels' words,   
and I am sticking to what they told me to the best of my   
abilities. I look forward to the day when I can see   
them again, although hopefully I'll be in good health at   
the time. 


End file.
